Mask
by Marika
Summary: A short POV from Duo, reflecting on who he really is


I told another joke today, and miracle of miracles, Heero actually cracked a smile! It's amazing, really, I was almost positive that his face would crack before he ever did that. It wasn't a pretty smile, not really, it looked more like a grimace - I think he's been spending too much time holding back grimaces of pain when he sets his own leg (ugh!), but it's better that that glare he usually gives me. It wasn't a pretty smile, but it made him beautiful, if only for a second. It made him look human, and it made me realize he's a beautiful person, inside and out, although he'd probably shoot me if I told him that.  
  
Yeah, he kinda reminds me of some of the kids at the orphanage, crazy as that seems. Hard outside because they had to be, but with a heart of gold inside, if they'd only let someone know. But they won't, of course, because that's the surest way to get hurt, trust me, I know. In Heero's case, it was literal pain - show you care about people, and they punish you - but for me... well, I've had my heart ripped out a few too many times to trust it to anyone anymore. I don't trust anyone anymore, not because I think they're going to hurt me, but because they could. Trust me, it makes more sense in my head.  
  
But anyway, that's what he reminds me of, because under all that concrete that he calls a face, there's the possibility of a very nice human being. Possibility, because he needs to relax a little before he's fit to be around anyone, and having your first reaction to stress being to shoot the source of the stress is not healthy, but the possibility is there, buried deep. All right, very deep. Trust me on this one, though, it's there, underneath the mask.  
  
Unlike me.  
  
I know what the others think of me, when they bother to think at all. They think I'm a stereotypical American, big mouth, talks a lot, doesn't have much to say, the whole deal. If they ever do bother to look closer, they've probably guessed that this joker, this face I show the world is just a mask. He's not real, at least, I don't think he is, and I wonder what they think is underneath. I know that they don't know the truth. They may think they do, but they don't. And how do I know this, you wonder? I know they don't know who's underneath because I don't know.   
  
Yup, you heard me, I don't even know what the hell is supposed to be under the joker mask anymore. There used to be something there, I'm sure of it, because I didn't wear the mask when I was little - too busy trying to survive, I guess, or something, so there must have been something there before I put the mask on, but I can't remember what it was.   
You see, I've been wearing this mask for a very long time. It must have been five or six years now. I know that may not sound like a lot to you, but when you're fifteen years old, it's a significant portion of your life. Ever since after Maxwell Church, I've worn it. It's protection, you see. If I don't let anyone see the real me, they'll never get close enough to hurt me, so I won't feel like I did back then. I've head my heart torn out twice, I'm pretty sure that I can't take another go at it. So I protect the real me with this mask, and I'm safe. Right.  
  
Except that I've run into a problem now. You see, I've forgotten who the real me is, the one that I'm supposed to be protecting. I've been wearing the mask for so long that whatever was underneath seems to have disappeared, rotted away, whatever. I don't know what the hell happened to it, but it's gone. I can't even remember what it was supposed to be, the thing that's not there. It's gone, and even though I know that I wasn't the happiest of people back then, I want it back, because without it, all that's left is the mask, the joker, and I know there's supposed to be more.  
  
I have nightmares about it sometimes, when I'm not busy having nightmares about Solo, Maxwell Church, or all the lives I'm ruining fighting against Oz. You might think that compared to those, these would be nothing, but if anything, they're worse. They're not the ones that make me bite off a scream as I wake up, trying to yell a warning to someone who's already dead, and they're not even the ones that make me wake up cold and shivering. When I wake up from these, I don't feel anything. I just wake up and remember the dreams, but there's nothing beneath the surface. Sometimes I roll over and wonder why I feel so dead inside, when, during the day, I feel so normal, especially in comparison to my fellow pilots. During the day, I feel fine, happy, sad, pissed over Heero's latest self-destructing stunt, but after those nightmares...  
  
I have a very clear image in my mind. I can see myself, and someone starts peeling away my skin, layer by layer, stripping the mask off, and once it's gone... there's nothing inside. Emptiness. That's usually when I wake up. Or sometimes I stand there and get blown away, like my body is made up of sand. That's how I know that there's nothing left inside, nothing of me (whoever I am) left, except the mask that was such a small part of me before.  
Someday someone's going to get through the mask, and I'm terrified of what they'll see, because all I see is nothingness.   
  
So, fucked up as it seems, there are times (mostly at night) when I envy Mr. I-Can-Set-My-Own-Leg-And-Live-For-The-Mission Heero Yuy, because he's got a lot going on under that mask. He's got a lot of problems, but it's all there, obvious to see if you bother to look past the mask.  
  
And me, I'm not really here.  
  
  
  
  
Well, that was a little depressing, but I wrote it in the middle of the night when I was tired and had some things to work through. I may put out a sequal to this, or not, I haven't really decided yet. I think it depends on whether or not anyone wants it. It would probably be more positive, though. 


End file.
